Blessing of the Moon
by DolceLockhart
Summary: Little one-shot of Derek's mind. His interest on a certain someone. DerekXStiles.


**Disclaimer: Teen Wolf is not of my property. I do not claim any type of ownership or relation to the series except that of a fan.**

Blessing of the Moon

When I was a young cub, my father told me and my sister the Japanese legend that explained why human life is the way it is. He said that the Heavenly Prince who fathered all peoples was offered by the Mountain God a choice of marriage between his daughters.

If he chose the elder daughter, the Princess of Rocks, their children would be immensely rich; they would be industrious, clever and focused; above all else, they would live for centuries, as long as rocks can. But, if he chose her, their children would also be ugly, harsh, severe and humorless; they would be unable to truly feel love or to appreciate beauty.

If he chose the younger daughter, the Princess of Flowers, their children would be immensely creative; they would be ingenious, brave, beautiful and capable of great good; above all else, they would be able to know true love. But, if he chose her, their children would also be volatile, vindictive, selfish and capable of great evil; they would be delicate as flowers both on their short lives and their fragile emotions.

The Heavenly Prince chose the younger daughter.

As a kid, I never really understood why would the Prince choose the Flower over the Rock. True love and beauty instead of living for centuries as rich men? If it had been me, at that time, I'd chosen the Princess of Rock... true love seemed a low price compared to riches and near immortality. I never really understood... that is, until my family was taken from me. A thousand times a short live filled with the laughter of my father, the love of my mother, the companionship of my sister and friendship my friends than a centuries long one without truly knowing or appreciating any of them. A million times and more a short life with true love in it than a long one completely void of it.

Werewolves are truly blessed, that's what my mother used to say. We are blessed because our path to True Love is lit the Moon. Werewolves fall in love just once. Never more than that. We fall in love once, and with that person we share the sparkle of our souls and the beating of our hearts. We never look back, never think what if, never cheat or lie or intent to hurt that especial someone. We die protecting them, we move mountains and fight armies with a smile on our lips if that is what it takes to save them from harm. She used to say that that happens because every wolf and their mate share the same heavenly cast. I used to joke that that happens because there are just so many people who'd put up with the our... difficulties, so to speak. I remember that she used to sit and look with dreamy eyes at me and Laura while we played, mentally picturing our true loves.

Being gay is not a big deal for werewolves. We believe in souls, not sexes. I remember when I told my parents that I prefer boys, they simply looked at me over their breakfast and said that that didn't excuse me from giving them grandchildren. They wanted as many puppies as I could have, running around the garden during full moons and scaring the neighbor's cat.

It is said that werewolves usually find the other half of their casts through smell. We can smell people's blood, what they've eaten, where they've been to... but with _that_ person, it is said that we are able to smell their souls. And if that wasn't enough, we fall in love the moment we lay our eyes on them. Yes, a wolf knows when their Princess or Prince of Flowers appears for the Moon tells us.

I had been searching all over the world for him when I had to return here. To this place where most of my family was taken from me, where my sister also left me. And of all places, of all the world for him to be... he is here. I can smell him, not his blood running through his body or the smell of his, now werewolf, friend.

I smell his soul.

The scent of rich chocolate...

of light vanilla...

of fresh coffee...

of pure honey...

I smell his soul and have fallen in love with it.

The Japanese Myth here is real, at most I might have altered the intensity of the adjectives. Otherwise, it stands as I heard as a child.


End file.
